


cute face lil waist

by incode



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Corsetry, Dirty Talk, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Romance, this is sweet but nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incode/pseuds/incode
Summary: Yuuri thinks he could really work with this corseting thing, yes indeed.("And this - that was more about - the decoration, than anything else. It looks nice on you. But you look amazing without it.” He trails a line of closed-mouth kisses across Victor’s middle. “I don’t think I could care less about anything,” he muses against his skin.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote more porn! what else needs to be said. i should be working on a myriad other things, but here this is in the meantime.
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> [tumblr](http://shakenhoney.tumblr.com/)
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> comments, kudos = love  
> title is from badd by the ying yang twins lmfao

“Yuuri?” Victor calls down the hallway. “Could you help me, darling?” Yuuri swings his legs from under him on the couch to the floor and wanders through their bedroom and into the walk-in closet, where Victor is holding his waspie at the small of his own back, twisting to see exactly how far the cotton panel at the center folds over itself. He grins as Yuuri comes up behind him in the mirror. “I can almost close it all the way, look,” he tells him, excited. “Can you lace me up?”

Victor always needed an off-ice hobby, Yuuri supposes.

He just doesn’t know why he’d assumed Yuuri’s permission was required. It’s not as if he disapproves - admittedly, when Victor had first shared his interest in corseting, he’d looked up the practice online, just because everything he’d heard had been negative, and, like, extreme. Pretty unrelated to what Victor had linked him so far, at that point - he’d learned a lot that afternoon, sitting in their empty house clicking around, mostly that corseting was safe if done patiently and carefully. And anyway, Victor never seemed particularly interested in trimming his figure too drastically - though Yuuri wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to poke fun at his vanity, there is good evidence to support Victor’s claim that his posture is helped by the steel boning. He’s never ever slouched, that Yuuri’s seen, which isn’t surprising - good skating form requires good posture - but there’s something about the way his shoulders are held square and straight when he wears his corset under his clothes. Maybe it’s simply that he feels good in them. If it makes Victor feel strong, even while nipping in his already-slim waist, Yuuri is all for it.

Yuuri lays his hands on Victor’s waist and turns him, smiling back at him as he gathers the laces and begins tightening through the eyelets from the top down. He watches Victor carefully for any sign of discomfort, and as he does so, he studies the curve of Victor’s body - slight but definitely more pronounced than it was six months ago. White is an easy color to get away with under a t-shirt, so it had been a practical choice, but the bright mesh paneling over flat steel also offers a nice accent to Victor’s pink-tinged porcelain skin. He’s never seen him put it on like this before - normally he wears an A-shirt under it, because it protects the fabric from his skin’s oils and offers a barrier during the day to prevent chafing, though really, Yuuri’s always surprised by how soft the thing is. Finishing the lacing with a swift bow, he swirls his thumbs over the outward curve that leads down to Victor’s hips, and considers.

It’s late evening, and they’ve spent the last hour or so settling in for a quiet night; Yuuri has been reading, and Victor had been taking a bath, and now he’s only wearing the corset and a thin rayon panty which rides low and is ruched at the center, offering a fully defined outline of his ass. Yuuri is used to seeing him in his underwear, of course, but something about the shape of his body being emphasized like this, the excess ribbon dangling down his back, the fresh and soapy smell of his skin, is getting to Yuuri. His grip on Victor’s waist tightens and he leans in, pressing his lips to Victor’s shoulder; Victor sighs and relaxes into him, letting his weight rest back for Yuuri to support.

He wraps his arms further around Victor and trails his hands over his bare chest, watching them in the mirror. Victor looks happy, content, his eyes already closed. His waist is so tiny like this; Yuuri traces it again, idly distracted by it. The curve of his powerful hips is further brought out by the shaping. That was always a thrill for Yuuri, getting Victor’s clothes off and studying his shape. He is an expert in the way Victor’s body curves and angles, though he never wants to stop learning it, and if Victor wants to change it, he can only watch in awe.

Yuuri nudges Victor forward. “Lean on it,” he says as they get close to the mirror. Victor blinks a little dumbly for a moment, but then he gets what Yuuri is playing at, and places his hands on the mirror, stepping out to spread his legs and pushing his ass back; Yuuri dips down to his knees on the carpet, kisses up the back of Victor’s thigh and cups his calf with one hand. Victor reaches back to pet at Yuuri’s hair and Yuuri purrs. He wants Victor to see himself taken apart like this; his only wish is that he could see it, too, but he’ll settle for the sounds Victor makes, because they’re gorgeous. He smiles to himself in anticipation as he tugs Victor’s undies down and spreads him open with his free hand, and spends just a moment admiring the way his ass responds to him squeezing it. Just as Victor takes in a shivery breath he presses his tongue against him in a way that makes him gasp all over again; the corset’s ribbons shake and tickle Yuuri’s forehead. Victor bows his body further, arching so his chest is nearly up against the mirror. The laces dip now into the crack of his ass, coming a little loose with the way the arch of Victor’s body tests the structure of the garment, and Yuuri has to dodge them as he licks him open; he doesn’t mind, wets his tongue and lets himself taste and feel and listen.

Victor’s asshole responds to him beautifully when he traces a finger lightly over it, watching the pucker pulse at the promise of something sinking in, filling him up. Victor gasps and keens. Yuuri hums, nips at his thigh, soothes him by running his other hand up Victor’s back above the waspie. He breathes against him, drawing closer again and willing him to relax, pushing his saliva-slick finger against him gently. Victor whines and drops his forehead to his arm where it rests against the mirror; Yuuri chuckles at him softly. “You look so good, baby,” he says, his voice low. “Gorgeous and so close to being ready for me. You want me to fuck you right here against the mirror so you can see yourself get railed?” Victor whines helplessly in response. “Or should I lay you on your back so I can look at your pretty face while I pump you full? So many options…”

He trails off and leans in to lick at Victor again, getting his hole good and wet, and he’s finally able to slip a finger in and Victor moans his thanks. He keeps his mouth on him as he slowly works him open, a steady and shallow motion, focusing on just getting the initial ring of muscle used to the intrusion. Yuuri fucks Victor often, but marvels at how tight and practiced his body is, and it’s so much fun to get him good and ready. Victor loves it so much, no matter how much he tries to deny it, tries to rush Yuuri along, but Yuuri enjoys this too much, eating him out while Victor sweats and begs for more. Yuuri's such a fucking service top, he realizes all of a sudden, so stereotypically eager to please. Or maybe he’s just a sucker for this man and his pretty silver hair and the elegant, confident arch of his body and the softness of his laugh and the incredible roundness of his hips, his mile-long legs. His inclination toward pretty things, adorning himself with them, constantly indulging in little private luxuries that they share only with each other. His adoration and love for Yuuri, the way he wants him desperately no matter how much Yuuri swears he is his, the way no touch is ever enough; Yuuri feels the same, like if Victor could wrap him up tightly in his arms and never let him go he’d be just as happy for it.

He taps Victor’s hip and he widens his legs obediently; Yuuri teases a second finger at his entrance and Victor makes a noise of assent, so he begins scissoring him open, spit dripping down his crack to slip over his balls. Yuuri backs off a little more to take a look in the mirror; Victor’s cock bobs obscenely in front of him, so hard and flushed deep pink, offset by the pale skin of his belly half-visible underneath the bright white of his corset. His toes flex into the carpet under his muscular calves. Yuuri loses his focus for a moment and accidentally drives his fingers a little further into Victor than he’d meant to; Victor’s moan is so deep and guttural, Yuuri can tell the next time he speaks his voice will be wrecked. “Yeah,” he growls possessively, “yeah, baby, fuck. Tell me how much you like getting fucked on my fingers like this. You’re gonna love what I’ve got for you next, huh?”

Victor whimpers and Yuuri does not miss the way his legs shake. “You want to move? You need me to hold you up, don’t you?” Victor nods, and Yuuri stands, doing his best not to interrupt Victor’s mood by yanking his fingers out too abruptly. He wraps his arms around Victor’s waist and breathes in the scent of his hair, still damp from the bath. He rocks them together, letting Victor feel how hard he is in his pajama pants, and starts walking them together back into the bedroom, but he pauses in the doorway, considering his options.

He decides on something a little unorthodox. Victor makes a questioning sound as Yuuri pushes him down the hallway, kissing his neck the whole time, but only grunts when Yuuri spins him and throws him down over the desk. He thinks of the bruises he could leave at the front of Victor’s hips if he pushes him up against the edge hard enough and growls. “Stay put,” he says, dragging his nails down Victor’s scalp; Victor answers by wiggling his hips and Yuuri laughs. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Gonna go get the lube so I can take care of that for you.”

Truly, he doesn’t think he’s ever made such good time from their room back to the hallway, but he asks Victor if he’s missed him anyway as he lets a generous amount of lube pour out straight onto his ass. Victor just makes a happy little humming noise. Yuuri briefly wonders if it’s normal for one to go basically nonverbal during sex and remembers the pathetic whimpering noises he’s reduced to when Victor sucks his cock, and so he chooses not to press the issue with himself.

He sinks two fingers back into Victor without much preamble and gives him a quick smack on the ass when he tenses up; it’s just fun to listen to him moan at that, incredibly satisfying, the way he shimmies and wiggles back onto Yuuri’s fingers. A little bit of pain gets Victor going, whether it’s Yuuri’s nails down hisback or a ruler brought down over his thighs. He can’t bring himself to really hit him tonight, though, not when Victor’s already so desperate and waiting for him, not when his dick knows how tight he is and is aching for contact.

Yuuri shoves his pants down, gets his cock in his free hand, pumps himself a few times because he can't fucking resist, not while watching Victor writhe on the desk. He mourns the pristine ribbon that fastens Victor’s corset as he gathers it all in his lube-covered hand and guides his cock into Victor with the other, using the grip to keep him still. Right where he wants him.

This position is perfect; the way Victor looks, bent over for Yuuri’s cock with his waist nipped in, the curve that surrounds Yuuri and takes him in, is so overwhelmingly glorious. Yuuri has to stop, squeeze his eyes shut, and shiver through the urge to plow into him relentlessly right away; he wants this to last, wants to fuck Victor against this desk maybe forever. After all, there's no way the beauty of the situation could ever possibly diminish.

Victor can be taken out of commission very efficiently, in a few different ways. One is by not giving him much time to anticipate; Victor is less of a “build a pace” person and more of a “take it all at once” kind of guy. Yuuri is only too happy to oblige. After the pause for his own benefit, he rocks his hips back and drives forward, the drag absolutely exquisite. He knows when he’s hit Victor’s prostate because Victor makes starts grunting in rhythm, not that there is much of one. Yuuri quickly loses focus and has to keep reeling himself back in, reminding himself that this is for Victor. He works his cock into him at a brutal pace and makes sure to get the angle right, tugging up on Victor’s corset and listening to the way his breathing goes high and tight. He can tell Victor’s getting close and wants to be the reason he goes over the edge, selfish as usual. “Can you come on my cock, sweetheart?” he asks, though it's much more of a demand, and Victor knows it. “C’mon, let me feel you try to keep me inside, let me feel how much you love that dick - come on, Victor, baby, come. Come for me. Gonna fuck you right through it, gonna take real good care of this ass.”

Yuuri can feel the exact moment Victor lets go. His noises go softer, more dreamlike, the tension in his body releasing in quick waves of shaking pleasure - and of course, he can feel how Victor clenches tightly around him, muscles twitching in an effort to take more of what his body wants. Yuuri has no intention of stopping, has so much more to give him. He barely holds back watching Victor shudder apart like that under him, but he keeps it together, through some sheer, nearly supernatural force of will. His grip on the ribbons of Victor’s corset slips and he growls; Victor has precisely no time to recover before Yuuri is yanking him to a standing position and walking them over to the couch. Victor yelps as Yuuri sits; with Victor still attached to his lap, he is impaled at a new angle by Yuuri's unyielding dick, curved so perfectly to hit his already-tired prostate like this. Yuuri knows what he's doing and grins to himself as he rocks his hips back and forth, grinding them together lazily and feeling the softness of Victor’s ass, rubbing his cheek on Victor’s smooth back.

“Gonna keep fucking you,” Yuuri says softly, pressing a little kiss to Victor’s shoulder blade, “gonna take what I need. That okay?” Victor, back on earth but still gasping, gives a happy hum in response. Yuuri gets a good, solid grip on his hips and lifts him up, having accepted that he'll need to do the work from here on out. Victor is boneless and heavy against him after his orgasm, so warm, so perfect.

He does start to get a little whiny, though, as Yuuri’s impressive stamina drives him on and Victor’s overstimulated body starts to inevitably work itself up before he's entirely ready to accept pleasure again. Yuuri can feel the channel of heat he drives himself into give just a little more when Victor sighs. He takes the opportunity to lift Victor a bit higher on the upstroke and slam him back down as he lifts his own hips to meet him; the slap of skin on skin is deafening and and he does it again just to hear that, and the subsequent moan Victor gives in response, again.

They're so close like this, so intertwined. Yuuri can feel every inch of Victor - his body, his breath, his need and desire, shoving and jostling Yuuri’s until they melt together and Yuuri feels the coil of heat twist almost painfully in his abdomen and then spring loose. Victor moans as he fills him, and then he babbles incoherently as Yuuri drags his fingertips up and down Victor’s spine and arm, feeling the mix of lube and his own come drip slowly out of Victor’s hole where they're still joined and back into his own lap.Victor gets so ticklish after orgasm, all over, and Yuuri cherishes the tiny, breathless laughs he gives as his Yuuri runs his fingers over certain spots.

But there will be time for more of that later. Yuuri swivels around and tips Victor forward gently so he’s deposited on his knees on the couch; Victor buries his face in his forearm and Yuuri curves his body over his, coming down to kiss his cheek on the free side of his face. He tucks a lock of Victor’s hair behind his ear. “Hey, you ok?” he asks softly, and Victor grumbles, but smiles at him. The blush painted over his cheekbones is so pretty and delicate, and with his hair all mussed like this, Yuuri doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be able to resist putting his body through all its paces.

“You’ve worn me out,” he admits, and Yuuri grins.

“Already?” he teases, stroking Victor’s sweaty hair. “I have a little bit more I want to do, is that okay?”

Victor hides his face again. “Will you ever let me rest?” he asks woefully.

Yuuri pulls back and traces down the curve of Victor’s hips and thighs. “Nope,” he declares gleefully, and leans forward, eyes closed, to softly lave his tongue over Victor’s hole. Victor gives him a low, deep moan and Yuuri hums into his skin in response, attaching his lips over him and sucking lightly. Tasting himself and Victor mixed like this is so filthy and erotic; he feels his cock stir again despite how thoroughly it’s been sated. Victor, however, is starting to writhe a bit; Yuuri sneaks his hand from his thigh to between his legs and slides it up to cover the underside of his cock and rub softly. If his mouth weren’t occupied he’d snicker at the way Victor’s sobbing quietly for it, just to be mean. He loves reducing Victor to tears.

He teases his thumb just above Victor’s hole but finishes licking him clean without it, focusing on swirling his tongue around the rim and just inside. By the time he decides he’s finished, Victor’s thighs are trembling, and he wraps his hands around them gently to steady him, to remind him. Sensing that Yuuri is ready to move on, Victor turns himself over, and Yuuri leans in to press a soft kiss to the rise of his tummy, just under the hem of the corset. Noticing the state of the thing, he laughs in disbelief and rests his head on Victor’s hip.

“I’ll take it to the cleaners for you,” he offers, apologetic.

Victor scoffs, cuffs him behind the ear. “You’re lucky I’m about ready to size down,” he says. Yuuri smiles mischievously and walks his fingers up Victor’s thigh to press against his half-hard cock again. Victor gasps softly, a shudder on his intake of breath and in the wiggle of his hips. Wanting, needy, but so tentative. 

“Aw, you’ve gotten all hard again,” he says, as condescendingly as he can. “So cute. Bet I could make you come again, too.”

Victor whimpers. “Nooooo,” he laments, the exact _wrong_ way to convince Yuuri not to try, and he knows it. “Yuuri, I can’t.”

“You will,” Yuuri promises. He unhooks the fastenings at Victor’s front, watches Victor take in some deep breaths as he runs his palms over his abdomen. “You’re so gorgeous,” he says, almost accidentally, coming out as a breath.

Victor laughs, tipping his head back. “Thank God I’ve kept my waist small. You love it too much for me to let it go.”

Offended, Yuuri pauses and furrows his brow up at him. “You know I don’t care, right?” He traces Victor’s waist, studying it, considering it. “I mean, sure, I can tell the difference, but your body’s always been perfect to me. And this -“ he indicates the corset, lying discarded under Victor - “that was more about - the decoration, than anything else. It looks nice on you. But you look amazing without it.” He emphasizes this by trailing a line of closed-mouth kisses across Victor’s middle. “I don’t think I could care less about anything,” he muses against his skin, more to himself than to Victor.

Victor strokes his hair. When he looks up, Victor is smiling comfortably, his head propped up on the arm of the sofa. “I know,” he says, soft and good-natured, and Yuuri knows he’s telling the truth. He smiles back, satisfied, and dips his head down again to nuzzle his way down Victor’s stomach, licking through the soft hair beneath his navel, and then takes the head of his half-hard cock in his mouth, still tasting the slight tang of salt from what he’d released before. Victor groans and adjusts under him, dropping a leg off the couch, legs bent around Yuuri and hips open. Yuuri holds onto his thigh with his right hand and uses the other as a leverage point to push off his hip, working him to full hardness with his tongue and then pulsing up and down with his lips wrapped loose and wet around him, opening his throat to let Victor sink in. For the most part, Victor just lies there, probably too exhausted to do much more than pet Yuuri’s hair and pant his name.

Yuuri enjoys the way Victor’s heartbeat thrums in the veins leading down to his cock, the smell of him, sweat and sex and soap, the feel of the swollen head of his cock resting on his tongue. He alternates sinking down to the base with pulling back to really work his tongue around the shape of it, drive the tip into the slit, which makes Victor buck and cry out and kick his leg out; he then wraps it around Yuuri’s waist, loosely resting his calf at the small of Yuuri’s back. Yuuri chuckles through his nose, opening his eyes to look up Victor’s body at him over the span of his abdomen, admiring the flush on his chest and neck.

“Mm,” he says around Victor’s dick, letting his lips vibrate just under the crown, and he makes sure he’s caught Victor’s eye and softens his face, letting his eyes fall half-closed, staring up at him with the most innocent look he can affect while he hollows his cheeks and slides down once more, sliding his hand up Victor’s body to trace softly over his stomach and waist, flattening himself out further. He drops his eyes so he can focus as he gets to the root, darting his tongue out below to tongue firmly at the space between Victor’s dick and his balls, and Victor fucking _howls,_ squirming, cock jumping in Yuuri’s mouth as he spurts what is frankly a ridiculous amount of semen for a man who’s already come this evening.

Yuuri swallows, feeling more amicable than he usually does, and pulls off of him with a smirk plastered to his face. “Told you,” he says, a bit smugly, slithering up Victor’s body to rest on top of him, chest to chest.

Victor takes his face in both hands and kisses him, and the entire world melts away. Yuuri really loves these post-coital moments, the kisses Victor gives him when it’s so clear that Yuuri is his whole focus, when it’s clear that he’s made Victor feel good, when all Yuuri needs is the tender touch that only Victor can offer him and all Victor wants is to give it to him. Victor’s hands are clasped at the small of Yuuri’s back and Yuuri’s hands are in Victor’s hair, Victor letting him direct the kiss with insistent tugs this way and that as their lips and tongues move in tandem against one another, a dance so beautifully choreographed and well-memorized.

Yuuri pulls away when the kiss stops being so sweet and starts getting heated, when Victor starts peppering it with little nibbles to Yuuri’s lips. He buries his face in the crook between Victor’s neck and shoulder and pinches Victor’s flank, and Victor gasps. “You’re gonna get me worked up all over again,” Yuuri warns, “and you should know better.”

“You’ve already made it so I have to take another bath,” Victor counters. “I might as well milk this for all it’s worth.”

Yuuri squints toward the kitchen, barely making out the time on the backsplash above the stove. “Baby,” he says, noting that it’s only a little past eight, “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“For now, I’m only asking for a bath.” Victor blinks, unaffected. “Then we can see how many times you can ruin me before morning.”

Yuuri’s mouth drops open at his candor, but he recovers easily. He really should not be shocked by Victor’s mouth anymore. He cups Victor’s jaw before responding. “I’m giving myself a head start in the bath. After all, you know how I like you soaking wet.”


End file.
